


we're mud on their boots

by haipollai



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brain Damage, Broken Steve Rogers, Character Death, Dubious Consent, Human Experimentation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:24:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn't feel anything but anger and fear and panic, all colliding inside his head. His hands are red and there are children screaming. Screaming for mercy but he had his orders and mercy is never in his orders. He has to follow his orders, everything would fall apart if he didn't. He knows that, they showed him that.</p>
<p>But the orders are done and he is nothing but broken pieces of glass shattering and cutting at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're mud on their boots

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags. This fic is about the serum leaving Steve brain damaged and his subsequent abuse and use by SHIELD.   
> Also beardsley's fault, helping her with her Winter Soldier Steve proved inspirational (also everyone should read that too.)

He presses the blade into the soft flesh of the woman's neck. He doesn't know where he is but the room smells of medicine and bleach.

"Steve," the voices breaks through the constant thickness in his head. He's not Steve, hasn't been the skinny little boy for a long time. But he can't help responding when Bucky says the name just like that, soft and patient and a little bit exasperated. "Steve wake up."

He blinks and knows without asking what Bucky wants. "What year?" He demands, his voice rough from disuse.

"Twenty thirteen." 

Steve pulls the blade away from the woman's neck, keeping his hand close to his body so he can't be disarmed.

Bucky's crouched on a chair on the other side, eyes dark and patient, waiting for him to focus and engage. He remembers once their relationship was different but things change. He feels more connected to the name now, though it still isn't his own.  
"You last woke up in twenty oh one. If that helps," Bucky says.

It does, sort of. He doesn't have much context for his life these days. He is woken up and given orders and put to sleep again. "Why?"

Bucky grins and hops from the chair. "World is changing. Nurse needs to take some blood. Yes or no?"

Bucky always asks. Steve remembers that. "No."

He gives the nurse a pointed look and she seems grateful to flee. Bucky takes the chance to sit at the edge of the bed, his hip against Steve's. Steve takes a deep breath but grimaces at the feeling of the filtered air on his throat.

"Do I have orders?"

"Yes, but no time table. Well, not an urgent one." He cups Steve's cheek, his thumb resting lightly on Steve's lower lip. A question he's not ready to answer yet and Bucky doesn't push. "Take a minute."

It is against procedure and against orders for WS-01 to have downtime but even in the haze Steve lives in now (they say it was damage, a side effect of the serum but he's not sure if he believes them but he has no standard for truth) he listens to Bucky. 

He knows he'll always listen to Bucky. It's why he's here, each and every time Steve wakes up. The only thing that can keep him calm (other methods were tried, they all resulted in failure and casualties.)

"Ok," he whispers into the silent room.

Bucky smiles and nods and not for the first time Steve wonders what he's thinking. There's always something like longing in his eyes, as if he looks at Steve and wants someone else but he touches like he there's no one else in the world. Steve doesn't know how to find the words to ask what Bucky wants. That part of him was lost. He has orders and he follows and he listens to Bucky.

"Tell me first," Steve whispers, knowing they shouldn't be talking like this, of things the Soldier cannot have and cannot be. It feels pointless, like talking about a stranger. But he feels more awake now and he knows the nurse will be back soon with agents in black to give him orders.

Bucky leans in so his lips just touch Steve's, so he can talk without anyone hearing or seeing. "Your name is Steve Rogers. They made you a soldier and they think they broke you. My name is Bucky Barnes and they keep me alive to keep you calm." For a second he closes his eyes and takes it in, not knowing if in five minutes he'll even remember.

-

Steve Rogers never made it out of the basement in Brooklyn. Not entirely. Erskine tsked and fretted but in the end there was no reversing the damage. Whether it was the VitaRays or the serum that did it, memories had simply been eaten away. Steve Rogers wouldn't be able to go to war.

They keep him, run tests. By 1944 they figure out he obeys orders perfectly, without compunction.

So Steve Rogers is given an empty grave and a headstone, tucked away in Arlington to be ignored. The pieces left over are sent out with orders.

-

Bucky pulls his coat tighter around him against the sharp cold. It's 1956 and Budapest is in revolt. "What bad timing," he sighs, knowing that no matter what happens, the Americans won't be coming. Their eyes are all elsewhere, no one cares about a poor capital of a poor country still recovering from war.

The two of them are it but he's already received orders to withdraw, the mission's been canceled. Not worth the resources.

Steve is inside, he doesn't like the cold much. It's instinctive, Bucky wonders if it's something left over from before. When he was still Steve Rogers and not a husk. Sometimes, Bucky doesn't know why he stays. It's like endless torture, seeing Steve, working and watching and existing beside him and knowing he isn't Steve. 

Bucky makes his way back inside to give him the news but finds Steve huddled in a corner, head buried in his arms.

The doctors call these moments 'episodes', like it's just another nightly radio drama. They can tune in and tune off whenever they like, as if Steve isn't shattered and broken without help. They almost never happen on missions though, the job usually keeps him focused. He takes a deep breath, stealing himself for whatever might happen next (Steve runs the range these days, from broken tears to intense anger, like a child) and makes his way slowly over to him, crouching in front so he's at Steve's level.

"There's a child starving outside," Steve mumbles. "There's lots of children I heard them crying."

"I know Steve," Bucky sighs softly. The orphaned have no place to go and there's no resources left to help them. He's sure the city is full of them. Bucky blocks them out by focusing on Steve, he can help Steve.

Suddenly Steve's head snaps up and for a second Bucky wonders if he's going to lash out but he looks only confused. "You call me Steve."

"It's your name."

"Everyone- they call me-"

"WS Zero One," Bucky recites. "War Soldier Zero One. The first and only super soldier. Your name is Steve." Bucky bites it out sharper than he intends but he can't listen to Steve dehumanize himself. He can't listen to what remains of his best friend refer to himself as a number.

Steve thinks about that for awhile and Bucky shifts to make himself more comfortable. "What's your name?" Steve finally asks.

Bucky wants to cry or scream to try to get rid of the hurt that Steve doesn't remember his name. He closes his eyes and tries to just will himself to remember Steve's laugh from before the war but it feels so long ago. "Bucky," he says. "All my friends call me Bucky."

-

The SSR recruits Bucky after he's brought in from the Hydra lab.

After they beat and interrogate him to make sure he hasn't been manipulated into being a spy. Even then he's not sure they trust him, if they're smart they wouldn't. They still send him out on missions, put a gun in his hands and tell him to shoot the bad guys.

It's Peggy who makes the connection between him and Steve. It's Peggy who offers him a chance to see his friend again. 

She tells him he's not the same, but doesn't warn him how much as really changed.

-

He doesn't feel anything but anger and fear and panic, all colliding inside his head. His hands are red and there are children screaming. Screaming for mercy but he had his orders and mercy is never in his orders. He has to follow his orders, everything would fall apart if he didn't. He knows that, they showed him that.

But the orders are done and he is nothing but broken pieces of glass shattering and cutting at him.

He doesn't know when they locked him in the room just that they have. He only knows he's locked in because he's tried to break out but it doesn't budge. At some point it must open again because there's suddenly another presence. He senses it more than sees it. Someone else and everything inside of him hurts and he doesn't know how to get that out and make it stop.

"They're gonna put you to sleep, buddy," the words flow over him but don't cut through the anger and pain. "For a really long fucking time, ok?" He throws out a fist towards the voice just to make it stop. To get the pain out. There's a crack and the man stumbles, lifting one hand to his face. He focuses on the man like a target. He knows what to do with a target, he knows and can focus and the man-

The man just stands there, blood on the corner of his mouth.

"Best you got?" He spits and part of a tooth hits the floor. "Come on Steve. If anyone in this fucking hellhole is gonna kill me, I want it to be you. Which is pretty awful now that I think about it." He laughs dryly and closes his eyes. "Sorry I gotta curse you with my blood."

"I know-" He takes a few steps backwards because his orders don't cover this. "I _know_." He knows Bucky Barnes without knowing a thing, something small inside him screaming and screaming and screaming through everything else in his head.

Bucky's eyes open again. "Steve? What do you know, pal?" He takes a cautious step forward, and then another. "You know me?" 

There are words he doesn't remember and no longer knows how to say and he cannot remember touching and not hurting. But it feels right to touch his fingertips to Bucky's lips, still bright from blood. He has done that. He has made Bucky look so heartbroken. "Are you- is it-" He frowns, angry at himself for not being able to create more than half sentences. "I killed children."

"I know Steve. And I'm so fucking happy you won't remember that soon." Bucky moves closer to him and curls his fingers in Steve's hair, pulling until their foreheads touch. "I hate what's happened to you but I'm so fucking happy you at least don't remember."

He wonders how much else he doesn't remember, how much is gone and lost and he wonders what this man knows. "Why are you sad?"

"Because they hurt you. Each time they give you some fucking orders it kills you."

He doesn't know why he leans in, but it feels right, like the breath they share and the realization that somewhere deep down he knows this man. He knows him and his sad eyes and crooked, forced smile. He knows him and he won't hurt him, so he leans in and kisses him.

"Oh," Bucky breathes. "Don't do this Steve."

There are words he doesn't remember and doesn't know how to say but he presses his nose against Bucky's cheek. "Help me," he whispers. Just before the door crashes open and Bucky is forced out. They order him to stay put, holding guns on him and he always remembers what guns do so he obeys his orders.

Once Bucky is removed, they bring in someone else to punish Steve for his misbehavior. His shirt is removed and they whip him until he screams. There's a doctor taking notes on how much he can take.

-

The experiments done by Zola, and later enhanced by the SSR's own work, keep Bucky ageless. He wonders if maybe his insides are growing old and decaying while the outside stays the same. Like a tree rotting from the inside out.

He thinks every time Steve is woken up, a little part of him dies. Every time he's given a file with the familiar WS stamped on the front, he dies. His orders are always simple. Accompany the Soldier on his mission, ensure he obeys his orders, handle any breakdowns and bring him back. Sometimes they send him out on multiple missions in a row, leaving him up and awake and giving Bucky lots of time with him.

It happens in the seventies with so many hot spots flaring up. The longer Steve is awake, the more he seems to break, and the more Bucky wonders if he can put a bullet to his friend's head. He knows he should, if Steve was still in there he would want Bucky to.

But the idea of living in a world without Steve, of knowing he killed Steve, is too much and he can never do it. The longer Steve is awake the more good days he has as well. Days where they sit together on surveillance and recon and Steve asks about who he is. Where he smiles and even laughs sometimes. 

It makes up for being woken up in the middle of the night by Steve's screams.

Bucky feels a little dirty, calming him with kisses, with a hand on his stomach and the other between his thighs. Steve barely knows who Bucky is some days, doesn't know himself most of the others but he kisses back desperately. Starved for it. Bucky wonders if it even matters if it's him, or if any body would suffice. Once he knew the answer, knew that he and Steve would always end up together even if it was wrong and difficult, it was them against the entire damn world. He wishes he knew this Steve in the same way.

He's terrified of what he would find out if he did.

Bucky's not surprised to find out that SHIELD knows he and Steve are fucking, he's more surprised it takes them three weeks to confront him about it. He expects punishment, he expects to be taken away, to be locked in a room to be another lab rat. Bucky has always been a liability with Steve, but he also knows he is still the only one who can calm down Steve's worst fits and that is his trump card. The one thing they can't take and have yet to be able to replicate.

He hopes it's enough to keep him alive when they come to him. Bucky doesn't expect them to say they want him to do it again, that they want him to go further. They want to see their precious War Soldier Zero One in the middle of sex. There are a lot of explanations, a lot of 'never before' and 'interest' and 'this could explain things'.

"You and he were involved before the war," Peggy asks. She's advanced in both age and rank and supervises the Soldier program from a distance. Bucky thinks she's scared to come to close.

"Yes ma'am," he answers without hesitation though it wasn't really a question.

"Good, it will make this go smoother."

Bucky feels like he might throw up that something that used to be special, that used to be him and Steve and support is nothing but science now. An act to be studied. 

-

It's 1989 and the Wall is coming down. In the chaos, the Soldier is kept busy. Taking out targets while they attempt to flee in both directions. It will be months, if not years, for the damage to be sorted out and by then the Soldier will be back in cryo and untraceable.

They sit in a hotel room in Vienna, listening in as their mark fucks a prostitute. One last hurrah before he believes he'll disappear safely into the remains of the USSR, out of reach of the Americans and her Allies.

He can feel Bucky on the bed behind him, there is no noise in the room but the scratchy echoes of the mark's grunts and groans. They must wait until the prostitute is done and gone, minimal collateral damage, SHIELD doesn't want to be cleaning up after him this time. He still has the welts from his last mistake but it's easy to ignore the pain, and the welts themselves will be healed completely in a few days.

He lies back on the bed, looking upside at Bucky who is leaning against the headboard, a cigarette between his lips.

"She sounds bored," he says cautiously. It's usually Bucky who leads their small talk, who fills the space while he struggles to remember how to fit sounds together.

Bucky laughs and the sound makes him want to smile. "Prostitutes usually do. Most guys aren't that good." 

"You and me," he says carefully. Not sure what he's trying to say. Bucky looks like he knows. He reaches out and lightly touches Steve's cheek.

"What do you remember?" Bucky asks. Somehow, even with everything hazy and his memories more like impressions then recollections, he knows Bucky asks. Each and every time. Bucky always asks.

His answer is always the same. "Nothing." It's the only lie he knows how to tell anymore. He learned it slowly, over years of being woken up and frozen again, of being poked and prodded and hurt. Things always went easier if he said he remembered nothing. The doctors always seem pleased, he knows they're scared of him. Even when he truly knows nothing but his number and his orders, he knows the doctors are scared of him.

Only Bucky seems to be at ease around him. Maybe he has simply accepted he can't fight back.

"I'm better than that man in there," Bucky says, answering a question that he didn't quite ask. "And so are you. Though I don't think that's a concern." He laughs though there was no joke. Bucky sounds as lost as he feels and he _wants_ but doesn't know the words. Bucky moves around on the bed so he's lying next to him, his lips on his cheek. The only safe way they have to talk. "One day, we'll be free of this."

"How?" He doesn't know what freedom is. Maybe it's the scream at the back of his throat that only comes out when he's back at base. He knows better than to break on a mission anymore (they know not to send him to kill children anymore).

"Don't know. Break out maybe. Run away. Steve." His voice cracks and for a split second he clings to him, to a memory that the Soldier no longer has.

"Will you kill me?" He asks. His eyes stay fixed on the ceiling, not sure what to feel, if he is feeling. He is nothing but a science experiment and maybe this is only another test.

Bucky's breath hitches and for a second the room is full of the yells of the man they're here to kill. Finally, Bucky sighs, as if giving up on a fight. "If you want." 

He thinks about it but doesn't have an answer. The only want he knows is what draws him to Bucky, to the press of lips and skin. He knows it must be a want because there isn't any desire to be with anyone else. The feed finally goes silent and he can hear his breathing echo in his ears. 

-

When they first show him Steve, blank and empty in an almost childlike way, he wants to break him out. Kick and scream and get his hands on someone's throat. Something to make this right.

But he sees quickly there is no making this right. Steve is broken, no recognition in his eyes. Peggy keeps a hand on Bucky's shoulder as they watch him, his hands around a young man's throat, slowly squeezing the life out of him. And nothing in Steve's eyes change.

"You-" He chokes on his words, not even sure where to start. "How fucking _could_ you? He was the best fucking man in this wretched world."

She squeezes his shoulder and for a second he thinks she understands. She's just better at putting on a brave face. "I know," she whispers. "Will you stay?"

Bucky agrees as much as he wants to run away, to throw up, to pretend that Steve Rogers is will and truly dead. Except he's not and Bucky can't leave him. So to look out for him, he agrees. Her heels click loudly on the concrete floor when she finally walks away.

-

"You know me," he says, staring down at the man in the cell with him. He knows, he knows he has orders but everything is so overwhelming. His skin feels like it's too small and too tight. They threw him in the cell before he could do his mission and now he's a failure for not keeping it together. "You know me."

"I knew you."

" _You know me_." Anger bubbles up but he pushes it away, wanting to be clear and focused and he knows the anger takes that away. He knows they'll take him away. 

Bucky smiles tightly and slumps down to the ground, leaning back against the wall. "What do you want, Steve?"

"How do you know me?" He demands. Bucky looks heartbroken for a second but gestures for Steve so sit down with him. He doesn't want to, he wants to kick and lash out but Bucky grips his pants leg and tugs gently. There's something in the gesture that he can't say no to, so he drops to his knees. "Please," he whispers, sounding it out carefully, knowing it's a word he doesn't use often.

"Do you know what year it is?"

"Two Zero Zero Nine." It was in his orders.

"Your name?"

"W. S. Zero One." They burned it into him with physical abuse and casual words, their machine. Their pet killer. Nothing but a number and he knows he doesn't deserve anything but a number. Names are for whole people.

"No," Bucky touches his cheek and he can feel the way the stubble on his cheek rub against Bucky's fingers. "Your name."

"I don't-"

"Your name," Bucky interrupts. "Is Steve Rogers. We met a very long time ago. We were everything to each other." He moves closer as Bucky talks, feeling the name out in his head. Bucky doesn't seem scared when he touches his cheek in a mirror image of Bucky's own touch. "I'm going to look out for you Steve. I promise."

"Ok." He touches his lips to Bucky's. The itching under his skin has faded and he thinks this is trust, the ease he leans into Bucky, digging his fingers into Bucky's shoulders so he stays still. And Bucky kisses back as if seeking absolution. "I have orders," he pulls back enough to whisper.

For a second Bucky looks heartbroken but then the expression disappears and he nods. Orders have to be followed no matter what. He's good at ignoring what he wants. Any desire already gone. Bucky gets them out of the cell as the Soldier waits, calm now. No more anger, focused on what's next. All of it is routine, the armory, a vehicle, the drop off.

His memories are hazy but the repetition has sunk in. So many missions. Bucky stays beside him, quiet now. Watching. He watches back.

The mission is easy, a businesswoman who never sees him coming. Her neck snaps under his hands and she's left slumped at her desk as if she's merely fallen asleep, except for the angle her head rests at.

"Why am I good at this?" He asks and it feels more right to call himself Steve.

Bucky holds out a cigarette as they reach the street. "Because they took away who you are."

"They made me who I am," he argues. That is why they study him and why the use him. They tell him enough, agents in suits, tell him how good he is, how proud as the cold seems into his skin and the world goes black. It is what they say as they hand over orders. He is good and they are proud.

Bucky doesn't look proud.

"Yea. Guess so."

"I don't want to be good at this," he whispers. He feels a crack, somewhere in the back of his mind and it terrifies him. On the other side are the screams that haunt him. His screams, the screams of others.

Bucky stops in the middle of the street and Steve recognizes the look of horror on his face, he's seen it in doctors and agents and targets. He's seen it directed at him countless times, embedded in his hazy, lost memories. Memories without form, reduced to nothing but faint impressions. There's a feeling in his stomach that reminds him of when he gets sick after being woken up, when they let some drugs leave his system and replace them with others. "Bucky," he whispers, wanting that look to go away. He reaches out blindly, like a child.

Bucky catches his hand, pulls him in and clings to him. "We have three hours, I want you."

"Ok," Steve whispers back. "Ok." Anything to make that look go away.

-

It's 2013 and Bucky is watching Steve wake up. They let Bucky sit there to preempt Steve's panic. Bucky thinks about past conversations as he waits, whispered in hotel rooms and on city streets. Places where they were something like safe. Places where the mask created by this awful lab could start to crack.

He knows what he has to do. Steve is healing.

It has taken seventy years but Steve's brain is starting to heal, maybe it always has been but the serum has been fighting itself. Bucky doesn't want him to wake up to the memories in his head.

Steve smiles up at him as he wakes, and Bucky hopes he can remember that through this. He is running out of choices and the world isn't safe for them. Orders are given out and Steve looks at him as if he knows what Bucky is thinking. Bucky wonders if Steve has been waiting for this.

He waits, as hard as it is once they give him his sidearm. It has been a long time since he's felt motivated enough to wreck havoc on this place. Destroy the work they've done but he needs to get them out of here, far away. They're sent after some scientist who has refused to work with SHIELD. Bucky knows the drill, Steve takes care of the mark, SHIELD swoops in to claim his research in the name of security, no one is the wiser that they orchestrated the entire arrangement.

"Bucky," Steve whispers as they sit in the hotel room to wait for the go ahead. He moves across the bed and touches his lips to Bucky's, not to kiss but to talk. "Bucky. Your name is Bucky." He sounds lost and confused, as if desperate for confirmation.

"It is. Do you know yours?"

"Steve." There's no hesitation and Bucky feels it like a stab in the gut. It's never been so quick, never without prompting. "My name is Steve. I'm going to kill someone tomorrow."

"Those are your orders." Bucky feels hollow, suddenly unsure if he can do this. It's one thing to kill the terrified soldier Steve is often reduced to these days, unable to handle the emotions that quickly boil up and overwhelm him. He doesn't know if he can put a gun to Steve's head.

"I don't-" He frowns and seems to think through his thoughts. Trying to sort them out. "I don't _want_ to."

"Fuck Steve," Bucky breathes, crushing their lips together because now it's him who is overwhelmed with emotions. "What do you want?"

"I don't know. I don't- No choices. Only orders."

Bucky moves slowly so Steve doesn't spook, moving his gun from where he stashed it underneath a pillow to his lap. "You have some choices."

Steve looks down at it , his breathing even. No emotion in his body but when he meets Bucky's eyes again, he can see that Steve's lost in it. "No running. They're everywhere. They'd kill you."

Bucky bites his lip. "No running," he agrees. "One more choice."

He smiles and for a second Bucky feels like he's sitting back in that awful tenement apartment by the docks. The only one they could afford before the wages they brought in. Never enough but somehow they got by. It feels like old conspiracies and new plans. Bucky wishes he could have seen Steve in this body, finally big enough to match his bravado. "Please."

Bucky takes the gun in his hand and clicks off the safety. "Are you sure?"

"I want this."

He takes a deep breath, he promised to protect Steve and finally he can do that.

(Their bodies are not allowed to rest in peace.)


End file.
